


Museum Mystery

by Impreciselanguage



Series: July Prompts [1]
Category: Avengers (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Cap's Kooky Quartet, Doctor Doom (mention), Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 19:19:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4361186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impreciselanguage/pseuds/Impreciselanguage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“This is a joke, right? The Avengers didn’t seriously waste a perfectly good night setting a trap for a Doctor Doom cosplayer?” Clint frowned, gripping his bow in one hand, an arrow in the other, twirling idly between his fingers. While Steve wasn’t entirely sure what a ‘cosplayer’ was, he could make a guess.</p><p> </p><p>Mostly 616-inspired, though takes place in the early 2000s.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Museum Mystery

“I still don’t see why we’re here,” Pietro said, looking at one of the displays of Medieval Latverian armor, before turning to Captain America. “This should be a matter for the police. Not the Avengers.”  


“Nobody asked you, Quickie.” Hawkeye replied, before Steve could get a word in edgewise. Leading a team had never been this difficult when he’d been with the Howling Commandos. Of course, he’d shared leadership duties with Jack Fury and Timothy “Dum-Dum” Dugan, and none of the rest of them had been anything as immature as Clint or as prickly as Pietro.  


“I thought I had -” Steve began, as Quicksilver flashed across the room to throw a finger up in Clint’s face. It wasn’t the one Clint would have used, which was something, at least.  


“I told you to stop calling me that, when Stark told me what it meant!”  


“Well maybe –”  


“Hawkeye! Quicksilver! Stop acting like a couple of brats and start acting like Avengers!”  


Pietro at least had the grace to look chagrined. “Yes, Captain America. I shouldn’t let him get to me.”  


“Yes, Captain America.” Clint’s tone was clearly mocking. Pietro scowled, but he didn’t say anything. His sister, however, glared at Hawkeye. The young woman often reminded Steve of the same steel-with-heart he’d known in Peggy Carter, though the Scarlet Witch had far less self-confidence.  


“I, for one, would like to hear what Captain America has to say,” Wanda told the two young men, before turning her eyes on him. It was obvious that she had a bit of a crush on him, a fact Steve was trying to ignore as she would have been young for him even without the whole ‘on ice for sixty years thing.’  


“Thank you.” Careful not to single her out, for morale purposes as well as not give any encouragement to her girlish infatuation. It had to be obvious he wasn’t thanking the boys. Had he ever been that young? “As I thought I’d said in the mission briefing, this would normally be a police matter, but these are special circumstances.” Steve could see Barton’s mouth open, and continued before the younger man could interrupt. “The Avengers’ presence was requested, by the New York Police Department, specifically because it’s been Latverian artifacts that have been targeted, and we all know who the ruler of Latveria is.”  


“Just because you’re a hundred years old, you don’t need to talk to us like we’re kids,” Clint said.  


“I thought Von Doom had agreed to this exhibit? In the interest of better relations between the United States and Latveria?” Wanda glanced to a portrait of the Latverian Dictator-King. Steve might have been prejudiced, but he couldn’t help feeling that Iron Man’s mask was warmer, more human, even though they were objectively the same in most ways.  


“He did,” Steve began. This time, he was interrupted by Wanda’s brother.  


“Then why are we assuming that he’s behind this theft?” Pietro was holding his temper in check. Barely. “Simply because his mother was Romani, that does not make him-!”  


“Nobody said he was behind it, Quicksilver!” Steve hated having to shout at the young man, because he understood. He understood completely, and sympathized. He knew, better than most alive today, the kind of prejudice they’d faced. “Whatever else he might be, Von Doom isn’t likely to undermine international relations this way. But I think we can all agree that, whatever is going on, it’s a little more in our area of expertise than the NYPD.”  


“I thought old rivet-face was more the Fantastic Four’s ‘area of expertise’?”  


So had Steve, but he wasn’t about to tell Hawkeye that. Keeping his team together was difficult enough, without giving them any more reason to run amuck. “The Fantastic Four weren’t available,” was all he said, which was true enough. None of them made any more comment, and Steve was able to get the three of them to spread out and take cover, just hoping they hadn’t spent so much time in the open calling attention to themselves that the culprit had been warned off.  


After about twenty minutes of waiting, Steve heard a rhythmic tapping sound. He tensed, ready to leap into action. He’d have to be careful using his shield, as it would be too easy to break priceless artwork, and he hoped the other members of his team would keep that in mind. It was Wanda he was most worried about – despite her intentions, her mutant power tended to be fairly destructive. Another moment passed, and Steve realized that Pietro was thumping his foot against something. He raised the communicator on his wrist. “Quicksilver, do you copy? Everyone can hear that. Over.”  


There was no response over the com, but the thumping stopped. Steve made a note to kick Magneto’s ass if the mutant terrorist ever turned up again. The way the Maximoffs behaved in these situations, it was more than obvious that the leader of the mutant Brotherhood hadn’t given a second thought to their survival or training, but used them like cannon fodder. Steve had seen that kind of methodology before, towards the end of the war, by both sides, and it still made him sick.  


A few more minutes passed, then a shadowy figure crept into the gallery. They were wearing a dark cloak with the hood up, and for a moment Steve second-guessed himself. But the ruler of any country, even one like Doom, would never stoop to slinking around in the shadows, like a common thief. If Doom was going to steal these treasures (which would make no sense, as they were only on loan from Latveria in the first place) he would do so openly. “Avengers Assemble!” Steve leapt from his hiding place, vaulting over the display case to land on the floor two feet from the intruder. “Stop right there, thief!”  


The cloaked figure stumbled backward, tripping over their cloak and only just managing to keep their footing. A green blur flashed out from a corner, and Quicksilver had caught the villain by the back of the cloak. The young man shook his captive, just enough to rattle them, but Steve suddenly had the horrifying image of what might happen if the former (reluctant) mutant terrorist chose to shake anyone at his top speed. “That’s enough, Quicksilver!” Steve said, stepping forward, and Pietro dropped the man. The hood had fallen back from the intruder’s head. They were wearing a mask fashioned on that Doctor Doom wore, but it was made of cardboard and spray-painted. Steve studied the man, as Hawkeye and the Scarlet Witch emerged from their hiding places.  


“This is a joke, right? The Avengers didn’t seriously waste a perfectly good night setting a trap for a Doctor Doom cosplayer?” Clint frowned, gripping his bow in one hand, an arrow in the other, twirling idly between his fingers. While Steve wasn’t entirely sure what a ‘cosplayer’ was, he could make a guess.  


“Cosplayer!?” shrieked the man on the ground, crawling to his feet and adjusting the mask that had slid down his face. “You dare compare me to those . . .those hobbyists?!” He swirled his cloak in what he must have thought was an intimidating manner. Clint and Pietro snickered. Even Wanda turned away for a moment, hiding her face behind a gloved hand. “I am Doctor Doom’s greatest disciple! I am Major Doom! I am a great sorcerer!”  


Steve almost expected the man to throw an acorn at him, but the self-styled ‘Major Doom’ just waved his hands in a way that reminded him of a bad impersonation of Doctor Strange. Steve wasn’t sure if Doom performed magic in the same way. He kind of doubted it. “Okay, Major Doom,” Steve began. Clint snickered again, but Steve continued speaking as if he hadn’t heard it, “just why are you stealing pieces from the Latverian exhibit? Von Doom approved this trade with the museum as a showing of goodwill between Latveria and the United States. I don’t think he’d be very happy if he found out what you were doing.”  


“That’s where you’re wrong, American pig! Lord Doom will reward me for liberating these stolen treasures and returning them to Latveria!” The man made a lunge for the nearest case, which held a jeweled sword from the eighteenth century. First a gesture from the Scarlet Witch, and the man tripped over his own feet, then an arrow zipped over him, releasing a small net entangling Major Doom.  


“You’re as American as I am, buster.” Hawkeye tilted his head towards Steve. “Looks like me and Witchy just caught the bad-guy while you stood there polishing your shield, old man. Now what do you say we get out of here, and leave this joker for the police?”  


Major Doom cackled, as particularly deluded villains tended to do, and thrashed around in the net, muttering what sounded to Steve like nonsense. “I don’t like your tone, Hawkeye,” he said, frowning down at the captured thief. “But I think you’re right. Good work, Avengers. We're done here.”

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompts, this one was for Day 6: Night in the museum, with a crazed fan.


End file.
